My stomach's in coils. Coils. And Stephen's only pacing right now.

My dad's looking at me funny as I cry.
--
Crying harder. Dammit.
--
Need. More. Tissues.
Now I hate Evie.
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Oh, Jesus.
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You are good at making young girls cry.
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DAMN
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YOU
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MARY.
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You bitch. Why would you make me cry like that?!
What hurts more is that my mom's home now, so I have to come finish reading this later.

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